


golden

by shcherbatskayas



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Everyone Is Gay, F/F, Iruma has purple dragon dildos, Sato has a first name and it's Azumi, There's no smut btw Iruma is just ridiculous, You don't have to read the sequel to understand this btw, i'm dumb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 06:05:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11983722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shcherbatskayas/pseuds/shcherbatskayas
Summary: Mahiru, her girlfriends, and stupid levels of being in love.Sequel to "More Than Legend"





	golden

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cheinsaw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheinsaw/gifts).



> For cheinsaw whom I aporeciate sm. I mentioned Natsumi and her girlfriends in a previous fic and they wanted MORE!!!!! Also this is in my "v3 kids in the Reserve Course" AU. You don't have to read the fic before this one to understand any of it. Please enjoy!!

It’s raining on the day that Mahiru Koizumi returns from summer break, the rest of the year stretching in front of her like yards and yards of the dismal open fields that turned into beautiful, shining stretches of wheat that she saw when stuck in the American Midwest. She took a few pictures of them while her mother was out capturing harrowing images of poverty, unable to stop herself from rolling her eyes at Mahiru’s dumb little portraits of her classmates having fun and various strangers she saw that were enjoying themselves when she returned to the house they rented. 

“Photography is supposed to be important, Mahiru.” She had said, not even looking up from her own photographs. “And here you are, wasting your talents on silly little pictures that even what’s-her-name from your old middle school that you hate so much could’ve taken.”

“Natsumi. Her name’s Natsumi. And we don’t hate each other anymore, Mom. We sorted it out. Remember? We’re dating now.” Some part of Mahiru was offended that her mother forgot, but she had more important things to remember than Mahiru’s girlfriends. Her mother had just nodded and muttered something about teenagers that she hadn’t cared to hear. Hearing all of her mother’s disappointed comments would’ve caused her to rip her ears from her head. 

Mahiru’s dorm is just as she remembers it. She left a good bit of her things behind because summer break was so short and she spent most of it away anyhow. It’s still covered from floor to ceiling in photographs because she couldn’t bear to ruin her meticulous set up for just a month of traveling. Some of them are of her friends and her girlfriends, but most of them are taken by photographers she admires. The works of Ansel Adams and Annie Leibovitz and Dorothea Lange cover the golden wallpaper and fill the room with every color under the sun. The single bed still sits in the middle of the room, slightly dusty from disuse but still incredibly comfortable and soft. Part of Mahiru wants to flop down on the bed and take a nap, but she has clothes to put in drawers and classmates to meet up with. 

Halfway through finding a home for each of the clothes she brought with her, Mahiru’s phone rings. She lets it ring three times before checking to see who it is, figuring that it’s most likely just a wrong number or a telemarketer, but no, it’s Azumi Satou, her best friend of ten years and her girlfriend of two and a half. Mahiru would never let her girlfriend go to voicemail and so she picks it up with astonishing speed, almost dropping the pile of jeans in her hands. 

“Azumi! How’re you doing?” She greets cheerfully, a smile sneaking onto her face almost without notice. 

“I’m great.” She says, her voice somewhat distorted by bad connection. “Just finished setting up my dorm and--Oh my God, Iruma, is that...Is that a purple dragon dildo?! Is that...Jesus Christ and all the saints, is that _multiple purple dragon dildos?!_ ”

Seeming to forget that she’s on the phone, Azumi starts going off about her roommate’s strange dildo collection that’s been tormenting her for most of the year and Mahiru feels her heart fill up with something light and silly. There’s something endearing about how easily fired up she gets about everything, focusing her seemingly boundless energy on fixing whatever she sees wrong, whether that’s dragon dildos or the plight of Reserve Course students or the destruction of rainforests in Brazil. Mahiru glances out the window and sees Ruruka Ando, arm in arm with Sonosuke Izayoi and half obscured by the umbrella he’s holding, and she waves at them. Ruruka waves back and then gestures for her to open the window.

“Hey, Koizumi! I have a new candy on me. It’s strawberry and mango. Wanna try?” Ruruka holds out a handful of candies and Mahiru takes one. The wrapper is slightly damp from the rain and a bit of the water enters her room, but not enough to cause concern. She plops it in her mouth and smiles, the sweet and tangy combination of strawberry and mango filling her mouth. 

“These are delicious!” She exclaims, still hearing Azumi talk about mythical creatures and whether or not they should be put on sex toys in the background. The answer is seemingly no, at least not where she can see it. “Can I grab a few for Natsumi and Azumi? They would love them.”

“Of course! And send them all my love! I still owe Nat my ass after the October incident. She’s a true lifesaver. You’re lucky to be dating that girl, you know.” Rurka says, giving her a whole handful. 

“Thank you! I’ll definitely send them your love. And yeah, I really am. She’s great.” Mahiru eats another one and Izayoi actually smiles and whispers something to Ruruka, whose whole face lights up with joy. She figures that it was probably something cutesy. They’ve always been cute and Mahiru hopes that they’ll be cute forever. It seems like they will be. They both wave as they walk away and after ten more seconds of bickering with her roommate, Azumi remembers she’s actually on the phone. 

“Sorry about that.” She says, sounding unusually sheepish for a second before recovering. “Anyways, do you want Natsumi and I to come over later? I grabbed you both presents from when I went to Tokyo.”

“You shouldn’t have.” Mahiru smiles, looking at the presents she got for the two of them. She grabbed Azumi a snowglobe of people ice skating on a lake, a small farm and a little dog watching the events in the background. It’s a vintage thing from the 60’s, something she’s sure that Azumi will have fun analyzing and looking at. Natsumi was more difficult to buy gifts for, so she grabbed her a crop top that proudly proclaimed her love of Chicago and a “World’s Okayest Girlfriend” mug. It was just the sort of ironic touristy thing that she would love. “But yeah, that sounds good! I’ve missed you two.”

“Me too.” Azumi admits. “I’ve been able to see Natsumi a bit, but without the three of us, it just isn’t the same, you know?”

“I know.” In theory, it seemed odd for them to all be dating each other, but once the middle school drama was solved, Natsumi made her way into Mahiru and Azumi’s relationship like she was born to be there. It was a natural transition, as easy as breathing, and she missed the fresh air that was having her girlfriends around her and happy. “But we’ll all be together soon!”

“Mhmm.” Even though Mahiru can’t see her face, she is absolutely positive that Azumi is smiling her subtle little smile. “I’ll see you in a few, I still have unpacking to do.”

“Same here. See you!” Mahiru hangs up and finishing unpacking and once she’s done, she glances through the variety of photos she took while away, trying to decide which ones were good enough to show her girlfriends. Doubt fills her brain as she looks at them, worrying that Natsumi will laugh at the mother making pie or that Azumi will roll her eyes at the third picture of children playing hopscotch in a row, but she calms down. These are her girlfriends. They’ve never laughed at something she took seriously and poured her heart into. When Natsumi criticized, it was because Mahiru asked for her more professional take on things and she had long since ditched the habit of saying things that would hurt her just so that she could hurt her. When Azumi rolled her eyes for seemingly no reason, it was usually because she was tracing some bug with her eyes and planning to kill it, which she would always do a minute later and just didn’t say anything in case they worried. They weren’t as cruel as the judging panels she was used to. They weren’t even a judging panel at all. They love her. She repeats that reminder to herself as she spots her own mistakes, things that she could have done better herself. She’ll do better next time and her girlfriends will still love her, even if one photograph breaks the rule of thirds and the coloration on another a bit strange. It’s nothing to worry about. 

Half an hour later, Mahiru hears a knock on her door and there’s Azumi, one hand holding a bag full of gifts. Her hair is a few centimeters longer than she remembered and her face looked lighter, less worried than it was in previous years. She steps into the dorm and Mahiru all but smothers her in a hug. 

“Hey.” Azumi greets, chuckling quietly. She returns the hug and they stand there for a few seconds, just enjoying the privilege of being able to hold someone they love. It was something so few people go to experience and Mahiru was struck by just how lucky she truly was. 

They let go of each other and Mahiru tucks a lock of hair behind Azumi’s ear. Azumi leans her cheek into Mahiru’s palm and closes her eyes for half of a second before sitting down on the bed. They exchange tales of their respective summers, Azumi talking about movies she saw in Tokyo and the bus in Kobe that kept breaking down in front of her house and Natsumi’s ridiculous shopping spree that resulted in the two of them almost falling into a sinkhole and leaving with far too many pairs of shoes. Mahiru told her about her improving English, the strange things that Americans got up to and how they were so friendly to her, and the fun she had convincing various people to pose for her in front of skyscrapers and in the middle of the woods and everywhere in between. She was careful to omit the less fun parts of it, not talking about her mother’s disappointment and the way her father didn’t even call for the whole month she was gone, but Mahiru had the feeling that Azumi knew it all anyways. They had know each other longer enough that she was capable of reading between the lines and picking up on the few things Mahiru didn’t say. Normally she said everything, but there were some topics that she would rather talk around than about. There would be time for thinking about life’s failures later. Right now, she just wanted to be happy with one of her favorite people in the world. 

The arrival of Natsumi was foretold by the sound of heels clicking down the hallway, frantically fast and sounding somewhat angry. Azumi sighs once, but it isn’t a miserable sigh. It’s a half-affectionate thing, lovesick yet exasperated, a noise that Mahiru always treasures. There’s something wonderful about how much Azumi loves Natsumi, just as much but not exactly in the same way she loves Mahiru. It was fun to witness and fun to analyze. Mahiru is fairly certain all of three of them are familiar with that feeling. She would bet at least one hundred yen on it. There’s three knocks on the door, loud and bold and clipped before Natsumi gives up and picks the lock before either of them could even make it to the door. 

“I forgot to pack a fucking umbrella!” She declares, soaked to the bone and clearly frustrated by this series of events. “And Fuyuhiko didn’t answer his phone, the useless piece of shit, so I couldn’t have him run it over to me.”

“I see this.” Azumi deadpans as Mahiru grabs the towels from her bathroom. She throws them on Natsumi with no warning and she attempts to dodge, but they hit her anyhow.

“I’m blind!” She shrieks, the towels covering her face. Mahiru laughs, clear and unafraid as she dries off Natsumi’s hair. Azumi wipes off her arms, nearly getting smacked accidentally in the process. 

“You might be blind, but at least now you’re dry.” Mahiru says once she manages to get the water off her face. She parts the towels and gets the first clear look at Natsumi she’s had in months and gives her a quick kiss on the nose. 

“You missed, idiot.” She says, crossing her arms over her chest and pouting. 

“Here. Better?” Azumi sneaks in and kisses her on the lips before pushing Natsumi down so that she’s sitting on a towel and not getting water all over the floor. 

“Somewhat better! It would be best if I could get out of these clothes, though. They’re all stuck to me and it’s just ugh. Not ideal.” Natsumi pulls at her shirt to demonstrate this and Mahiru hands her a wrapped gift, the Chicago crop top that she bought her while in the city. While she tears through the wrapping paper, Azumi rifles through the drawers and finds a pair of jeans for Natsumi. 

“Oh my god! _I love Chicago!_ It’s so touristy. And the fabric...Jesus. This is the most American thing I’ve ever seen.” Natsumi pauses on this declaration and for a second, Mahiru thinks she might genuinely hate it before her face lights up with a grin. “I love it.”

Mahiru is relieved and Natsumi changes right then and there, grabbing the jeans from Azumi halfway through the process. Once she’s out of her rain-soaked clothes and happily perched on the edge of the bed, Mahiru hands her the other gift. “This isn’t really touristy, but I think you’ll like it.” She says as Natsumi opens it, carelessly tossing the wrapping paper towards the garbage bin. 

“World’s Okayest Girlfriend.” Natsumi reads, shaking her head and glancing at Mahiru from the corner of her eye. “I’m only the World’s Ok--Wait a minute! Azumi! Don’t you have that Natsumi Liker mug?”

“Mhmm. I thought I was going to get rid of it after the Student Council incident, but it was just too damn good to get rid of. I even made one for Tsumugi because of what you told me about her fighting them about the talent fee. That was at the time you were pretty much her only friend, so somebody had to do it. But now I have mugs for the best girls in Hall 36, so it’s all good for me.” Azumi confirms, thinking of the dumb mug she made with a collage of Natsumi’s selfies that proudly proclaimed that she was indeed a Natsumi Liker. It was a stupid thing, especially when paired with the Tsumugi one that was somewhat more understated but involved sunglasses photoshopped to Tsumugi’s face, but it was one of her most prized possessions. 

“We match now! We both have mugs about how amazing I am.” Natsumi laughs because really, it’s just too good. “We have to get Mahiru a mug now.”

“...Already handled that.” Azumi mutters, gesturing to her own bag of gifts. “It’s somewhere in there.”

“Azumi! You’re too sweet.” Mahiru says, giving her a kiss on the cheek before searching through the bag. She finds the one that contains the mug fairly easily and there it is, in all of its ridiculous glory. She puts it on the nightstand next to Natsumi’s mug and they spend the next half an hour opening gifts. Just like she predicted, Azumi loves the snow globe and spends a long time just staring at it, eyes wide and beautiful. Natsumi stares with her, pointing out details with her perfectly manicured nails. Mahiru takes a picture of them mid-action, unable to stop herself from preserving the beauty that is her girlfriends. They’re not perfect, but they're both so _good_ , debating about the fates of fictional skater statues that will never leave their happy little world on a rainy Sunday night. The feeling of being utterly and completely in love with both of them sneaks up on Mahiru sometimes. She’ll just be minding her own business and then one of them (or both of them, usually) will do something small and indescribably charming and the feeling will wash over her like a golden ocean wave of pure affection. The picture looks nice, nice enough to warrant an Instagram post with hearts in the caption. Some of it is Mahiru’s technical skill, that she’ll admit, but most of what there is to admire in it is in the subjects of the photo itself. 

Azumi’s gifts are even better. Other than the custom Natsumi Liker mug, she grabbed Mahiru a few interesting Polaroid shots from a photographer in Tokyo who seems to be as infatuated with smiles as she is. They’re old and fragile, real shots from the 70’s, and Mahiru tapes them to the few empty spaces on the wall as carefully as possible as she analyzes his technique. Natsumi debates her for a few minutes and Mahiru ends up being right, but Natsumi isn’t as irritated by this as she normally would be, if only because she wasn’t as wrong as she usually is and she wasn’t too emotionally involved in the debate. Azumi got Natsumi two purses, one a genuine designer bag with jewels on the handles and one an obvious knock-off for her strange collection of knock-off purses. It reads _Cucci_ instead of _Gucci_ and Natsumi laughs so loud and so long that she runs out of breath and lays her head in Azumi’s lap. 

“I didn’t go anywhere worth getting gifts from, but I’m heading in Shanghai next weekend on family business, so I’ll get you things there.” Natsumi promises, holding her pinkies out to both of them. Azumi and Mahiru both confirm her pinkie promise before she moves on. 

“Anyways, do you guys wanna hear the good gossip?” She asks, and even though Mahiru never liked participating in gossip too much, she has a morbid curiosity about the subject and so she nods. Azumi is the only person who enjoys it more than Natsumi so of course she agrees. Knowing things has always been one of Azumi’s biggest delight, especially when she wasn’t really supposed to know them. She collected her secrets as carefully and lovingly as Mahiru collected her photographs. Sometimes she thought that Azumi had potential to be a spy. 

“What’s it about?” Mahiru asks, taking one of Natsumi’s hands and one of Azumi’s and holding them in her own. 

“My roommate, a hot maid, and Paris Fashion Week.” She says, watching with amusement as Azumi’s eyebrows shoot all the way up. 

“Oh my God.” She says. “Do I even want to know?”

“YES!” Natsumi says, sitting up and almost hitting Mahiru in the face with their tangle of hands due to her sudden movement. Natsumi always ends up talking with her hands when she’s telling a story, so they all let for for a second. “So, you all know how Tsumugi spent all of the time before break being super gay for Toujou, that girl in her homeroom she ended up being friends with and how Toujou would just sometimes clean our dorm for shits?”

“Yeah.” Mahiru and Azumi say at the same time and they send each other a look before Mahiru calls jinx and Azumi now owes her a soda that Mahiru probably won’t drink but will give to Natsumi, whose love of carbonation is borderline dangerous. 

“Welllllllllllll, they signed up for that dumb trip to France and apparently Toujou commissioned her dresses from her favorite designer and they went backstage to see them, right? And Tsumugi was all happy and put them on in the dressing room backstage and everything and then made out with her. In the dressing room. At Paris Fashion Week. For half an hour.”

“That’s gay.” Azumi notes, pressing a finger to her chin. 

“We’re gay.” Natsumi reminds her, shoving her gently and without any of the usual malice that went into her shoving people.

She laughs, regaining her balance. “Okay, point taken. Still, Paris Fashion Week? Really? That’s a lot.” 

“Well, I’m proud of her.” Mahiru declares. “If I could do that for you guys, I would.”

“That’s _really_ gay.” Azumi says, this time getting a gentle shove from Mahiru while Natsumi shouts “YOU’RE really gay!” 

“POINT TAKEN!” Azumi yells back, ruffling Natsumi’s hair and watching in delight as she scurried towards Mahiru. 

“You’re the favorite girlfriend now.” Natsumi says, all but leaping in Mahiru’s arms. Azumi approaches with a pillow in hand and Mahiru raises an eyebrow at her before giving Natsumi a quick kiss on the cheek. 

“Love you, too.” She says just before Azumi smacks her with a pillow. Natsumi shrieks and grabs a pillow and they go back and forth, jokingly hitting each other with pillows while Mahiru laughs and tries her best to stay out of the crossfire. Her weapon of choice is the spare blanket that she plans to throw over the two of them once they get close enough to each other. She waits with the patience of a general at war, feeling silly and childish for participating in all of this in the first place. Mahiru knows that she should be doing important things. She should be out in war zones and taking pictures of the struggles of man in order to let everyone know. She should be studying to pass her exams, working on her landscape skills because they’ve always been the hardest for her to photograph, donating money to the less fortunate, helping the student council, doing the dishes because her father certainly won’t, doing anything but actually enjoying herself. The weight of responsibility always rests on her shoulders and threatens to crush her, but it’s Natsumi and the way she goads everyone into ridiculousness who reminds her to take breath before taking it on. She’s fun and free and sure, she gets done what she needs to get done, but she understands what Mahiru always misses and that is that it’s impossible to be at your best when you’re miserable and stressed out. “Self-care.” She was always saying as she applied another face mask or insisted that Mahiru take a nap or taking a night off to watch a season of one of her K-Dramas. “Self-care is the most important.”

Natsumi and Azumi are just centimeters apart and Mahiru throws the blanket, watching it cover them. She watches and giggles as the shapes beneath the blanket move in confusion until one of them finds the edge and throws it off. 

“Bitch!” Natsumi exclaims, all but dragging her into the fight by her ears. They go back and forth with pillows until Natsumi lies down on the bed in exhaustion and Azumi lies next to her. Mahiru lays on her other side and for a few seconds, they just breathe together and know that things are good now and will keep on being good for a while. It’s then that Natsumi digs out her phone and pulls up the camera. 

“Are you seriously taking a selfie?” Mahiru asks, wrinkling her nose at the concept. Natsumi’s selfies were great, but Mahiru hated being in them and with how the camera was set up now, she was clearly there. She wasn’t supposed to be in the photographs. She wasn’t supposed to be a star. Mahiru was supposed to be the determined, unmoving black that stars shined in front of. She was supposed to support the brighter stars that she knew. Being in front of a camera wasn’t her place. 

“Duh. I’m with the best girlfriends in the world. Of course I’m gonna take a selfie!” She smirks at the camera and takes what seems like six hundred photos in a row. Natsumi captures how Mahiru grabs a pillow and hides her face in it, how Azumi moves to grab it and falls of the bed, how Azumi gets back up within an instant and is still somehow in the last photo, where Natsumi is grinning and Mahiru is staring at her in mild concern. Natsumi shows them off proudly and Mahiru knows that she should say something artistic about how it’s set up, should say something about how the gold of the wallpaper and the gold of Natsumi’s hair and the gold on Azumi’s shirt (the hoodie got lost in the pillow fight long ago) all fit together to make something far too beautiful for her to comprehend, but instead she says “Is that really what my hair looks like all the time?” 

“Yes, and it’s wonderful hair.” Azumi kisses the top her head and then takes Natsumi’s phone to examine it herself. “This is...This is certainly a series of photographs.”

“You fuckin’ know it. Now give me my phone back, I’ve gotta send these to Tsumugi to know that we’re still the alpha girls-who-love-girls around here.” She texts them out at inhuman speeds and is already searching through good Instagram photos when Mahiru sees that her father actually called. Something angry and bitter wells up in her chest and Azumi frowns at her before poking Natsumi. Once the pictures are posted, Natsumi glances over Mahiru’s shoulder and sighs loudly. 

“He’s a piece of shit.” She says, rolling her eyes at the very idea of Mahiru’s father. “Did he even call you while you were away?”

“No.” Mahiru admits, more sad than angry. “I’m not worth the attention, apparently.”

“Yes, you are.” Azumi corrects her, poking her cheek. “It’s not your fault that he’s worthless.”

“And it isn’t your fault that your mother is always like ‘mehhhhhh, art has to always be serious and important and because you aren’t out there making yourself miserable, you’re not a ~true artist~’ or whatever, either.” Natsumi does an eerily accurate impersonation of her mother, even down to the way she waves her fingers when she’s scolding Mahiru. “It isn’t your fault that they’re both shitty.”

The validation makes her feel a bit better, but there’s still one thing bothering her. “I know, but maybe if I was better, if I could just get better grades and take better photographs and--”

“No.” Natsumi cuts her off. “They’d still be like that. You could literally be perfect and they would still be shitty. None of their damage is on you.”

“She’s right.” Azumi confirms. “And if it helps, I love you no matter what. So does Natsumi. Right?’

“Double right!” Natsumi confirms. “You’re like, actually a good person and one of the six people I can bear being around and if they don’t think you’re good enough or whatever, they’re hopelessly stupid and person-blind.”

Mahiru always knew that her father was hopeless, but something about the validation that her mother was in the wrong, too makes her feel safer and generally happier. Not only was she right in what she felt in her heart, but she had two people who believed her and loved her. That was more than she ever thought she would have, and Mahiru was beyond grateful. 

The three of them messed around for a while, talking about everything and nothing while enjoying each other’s company. Azumi fell asleep first, her legs tangled with Natsumi’s and her head resting on Mahiru’s shoulder. Natsumi fell asleep after that, reaching a hand across to hold Mahiru’s. Once they were both asleep, Mahiru felt herself relax and drift off into sleep as well, her head resting against Azumi’s and her hand tangled with Natsumi’s and her heart filled with love. 

***

Mahiru wakes up at seven in the morning, half an hour she has to get to class, to Azumi shaking her awake. “We’re going to be late.” She says, her face deathly serious, as if being late to class was the worst thing that could ever happen. Mahiru understood her urgency, knew the importance that Azumi placed on her own academics and as a part of the Reserve Course Student’s Rights Board, she felt double the pressure. Natsumi was a part of the same thing, but she was a bit less worried, judging by the fact that she was still asleep. 

Mahiru gets up and runs down to the kitchens. She grabs a tray and loads it up with three cups of coffee and a variety of different fruit before heading back. Natsumi is applying makeup and Azumi is on the phone with someone, thanking them profusely for letting them borrow a golf cart. Mahiru figures that it’s best not to ask. The three of them sip at coffee and eat fruit as they go about their routine. Mahiru gets dressed at lightning speed and helps Natsumi with her hair. There isn’t much to say in the midst of the running around, but the fact that none of them are running around alone makes it feel so much better. There’s a quiet intimacy about the whole affair, the sort of intimacy that appears from knowing someone for so long that you can see them perfectly when you close your eyes and you can all but hear their voice in your head. There was no need to waste time with words when all three of them were a finely tuned machine, made to get everything done in enough time so that they could enjoy themselves together when it was all over. 

A golf cart driven by a very tired Hajime Hinata appears and he hits the horn six times in a row. Mahiru is fairly certain he’s screaming, but she can’t hear it over the horn. Poor bastard. 

“My limo has arrived!” Natsumi says, opening the window and climbing out, Azumi following her. Mahiru leans out the window and both of them give her a kiss before climbing onto the cart and driving away, promising to meet her at lunch. The dawn sun makes the whole world look golden and Mahiru takes a second to appreciate it before heading to class with an apple in her hand and her school supplies in mild disarray, but everything was still there. The whole thing was chaotic, but all in all, Mahiru would later consider that frantic morning as one of the best she ever had.


End file.
